Hold Me Down Keep Me Safe
by Old Emerald Eye
Summary: A lesser known effect of kryptonite: reversing the suppressing power of a yellow sun. Or; Humans are prone to running before they can walk, doubly so in the case of alien technology. This has its consequences. Ft. A/B/O dynamics, minor character death and excessive italics.
1. Chapter 1

Following their arrival in Earth's solar system, the Kryptonian body undergoes a series of changes in response to the unprecedented energy potential of the systems sun. Most of the changes are physiological adjustments to allow for the expression of new powers, but one distinctive aspect of biology is suppressed.

Kryptonite counters the affects of the yellow sun, allows biology to reassert its function. Kara's never been affected long enough for anything beyond debilitation to happen, and Clark logically attributes any symptoms he experiences to the radiation. Either way, all the parties involved are completely unprepared for the results of confinement under long term exposure.

Astra goes into heat not even a day after being put into the cell. Alex is the first to notice change. Astra is lounging, curled like cat on the raised portion of the cell floor, and seems disinclined to move. "You're the one who defeated the Heligramite. I _like_ you."

It's not a sexual thing, even if Kara blushes while explaining her aunt is Omega. It just makes her more in tune with her primal side, prone to reacting on instincts millennia old.

Her _primal side_ manifests as territorial aggression towards everyone but Kara – who is and always will be family – and Alex, who smells so much like Kara that there's no difference. According to Alura's holographic matrix, scent is important, as is comfort and nesting. None of which are words that describe the cell, not matter how the definitions are stretched.

Alex borrows Kara's cape.

It's for a good cause, and it's not like they don't have three testbeds for prototype replacements that they need her to try out. Alex is quite proud of the weighted, reversible, thermally insulated design herself, but has a sneaking suspicion that its the integrated snack pockets are going to win the day.

General Lane shows up as she is presenting it to Astra. Alex feels her cheeks heat as she becomes exceedingly aware of the fact Astra's touching her face again. She's always aware of her proximity, how could she not be, but there are world of difference between being touched and being _seen_. Especially being seen by Lane, of all people. Kara likes Lucy, but Alex wouldn't trust her father with a stuffed poodle, nevermind someone related to, and loved by, Kara.

She blocks the cell's entrance with her body, keeping her eyes on the General and the rest of his men squarely in her peripheral vision. She won't let them get past her, but she can't stop them from going round.

"She is unfit for interrogation."

Alex tenses ever-so-slightly as Astra comes up behind her. Kryptonians are furnaces at the best of times, and Astra is – not hot, why did she have to think hot, anything but _hot_ -

"I'll be the judge of that."

As if.

"Are you medically qualified –"

Alex yelps as Astra's nuzzling into her neck turns into a nip, and twists up into the movement, arm coming up in an aborted strike. Into, away from, it makes no difference - Astra follows her motion, carries the momentum, and brings the two them down on the raised bit of floor that counts as a bed. She locks arms at the last second to keep Astra above her instead of flush against her, but that's the best that could be said of the situation.

"You are _agitating_ her, General. Let me do my job." Then, softer; There is no need to restrain me, General. Astra.

Lane's voice is a particular mixture of paternal and patronizing that sends Alex's hackles up, so who knows what Astra's response is going to be. "Agent –"

"Let me do my – " She catches the movement from the corner of her eye, throws her weight, and rolls position so the volley of glowing darts catch her in the back. Gasps. Twitches. And stills in Astra's arms.

Astra looks, Astra sees. Astra _screams_.

* * *

Halfway across the city, Kara reverses direction without warning. There is nothing to collide with her eight stories above the streets, but an entire block loses its windows as air rushed to fill the void left by her sudden departure.

* * *

In a motion so practiced it goes deeper than instinct, Astra's fingers catch at the edges of her cuffs, draw the filaments of blades out and lock them into place. She steps forward. She uses her claws to catch one in the neck, then the next, ducks, and drags another down to meet her knee.

* * *

Kara smashes through the door to face her aunt, still keening her anger over a cell full of still bodies, and the unsteady stutter of her sister's heart. She _burns_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **A lesser known effect of kryptonite: reversing the suppressing power of a yellow sun. Or; Humans are prone to running before they can walk, doubly so in the case of alien technology. This has its consequences.

**Pairing:** Alex/Astra

* * *

**Previously:** Some torture was attempted, a military coup occurred, and Alex had a really bad (conclusion to her) day.

**Now:** Alex wakes and has to figure out what's happened in the last however long she's been unconscious. She doesn't get very far.

* * *

_Shout out to JB! Always nice to see your name._

* * *

Alex's back is cold. Her back, and just the top of her head. Everywhere else is warm and heavy in a way that both roots her to the earth like a well secured anchor and presses down on her eyelids like a spectacular hangover.

Taking all of that into a detached sort of consideration, she would think she's about to remember - or not remember, which is almost more indicative - a spectacular evening. She hasn't reached the stage where the guilt starts creeping in. But there isn't even a hint of a headache. And Alex always has headaches after drinking. Even when she pre-drinks water to try to prevent it. It's about a third of the reason, if she's being honest with herself, that she kept drinking in the first place.

Which means Kara. Very probably Kara sleep-floating just above her, ready to drop like an anvil if she even tries to think of getting up. It's happened before. Less often than Kara floating away with all the blankets, but often enough to be memorable.

Not that Alex feels any need to wake up properly. Not anytime soon. She's exhausted; her entire body heavy enough that she can feel the weight of sleep trying to drag her down all the way to the core of the earth, but she drags her eyes open anyway. The ceiling above her is white, and too far away. She blinks slowly. Has to relearn how to open her eyes every time they close, but that's life. She's starting to get uncomfortable despite it. The sort of discomfort that drags her awake but does nothing for her energy levels. Alex is not a fan.

She can't remember her dreams. Alex considers that a good thing. The moments just before and after she's unconscious are when she makes her best scientific breakthroughs, but of late science has unequivocally gotten mixed up with images of a certain General.

She shifts. Isn't really expecting to get any leverage from the act - Kara can be an immovable object, and Alex is far from unstoppable, especially in the early mornings before caffeine - its more getting her used to the idea that Alex is going to want to move. Preferably before her all too human bladder bursts.

And suddenly, she is thrown into a weird miss-match of dream and reality, floating in light and staring up into cool grey eyes. They're very close, close enough that Alex can see the shift of colour as she blinks.

How did Astra get into her bedroom? She's supposed to be in her cell.

Cell. DEO. Custody. Ice. Cold. These are not things that should add up to bedroom.

Either her dreams are taking a turn for the weirder - and she is adamantly not thinking about hands, and teeth, and skin and things that belong in kinky pornos she's _never seen in her life_ \- because she's never once in her life woken up to a false memory of ... that, and even if she has she can't remember it anyway, or ...

Wait.

Her dreams don't have temperature. Don't have pain, or hot or cold or anything but the vaguest of impressions, even in the in-between of waking. She is cold. Astra's breath is a steady damp warmth against her skin. This is _real_.

So. So she has to wait, and think, and not panic, and gather information so she can come up with a plan to deal with this ... situation. It's not the first time she's slept inside a cell, but that was for training purposes. There hadn't been anyone else -

Taking a steadying breath - in two three and hold for four, Alex ignores the weight of Astra's stare and looks at her surroundings again, slowly, taking them in properly this time - details and absences and all. She isn't in the DEO. The walls and ceiling are made of ice and crystal, not rock and steel. There is light, but no hint of electricity. She's in the Fortress of Solitude. Alex has never been here before, but she's wanted to visit since Clark first told Lois in his third - no, his fourth interview. The science she could discover here would be groundbreaking.

… Like how her lungs aren't freezing. That's highest priority right now. She's got a personal furnace, yes, but only on her front half. Alex is not going to think about how comfortable that is. The rest of her is exposed to ice and air that, while nowhere near as cold as it should be, is still colder than she'd prefer to be exposed to for any prolonged period of time.

More importantly, from a long term viewpoint, her location means she's not in military custody. Which means there's a not insignificant chance she's on the run from the government for absconding with a prisoner. Feels a headache coming on already.

Or she's been kidnapped, but Astra seems far too clingy for that. Touchy, that Alex expects. Astra has a very Kryptonian view of personal space. But going beyond that and into clingy territory means that this is still an Omega thing. Alex would honestly prefer being kidnapped to having to figure that out without Kara and her mother's holographic interface to help interpret each new interaction. At least she knows what to do when that happens. Not that she's had much experience, beyond the training.

She wriggles her way free from her ice slab - and Astra lets her, which is … well, it's a thing. She'll decide what that means later - and drops to the floor. The cold bites at her feet. She shivers, and Astra is at her back like a Kryptonian heat pack. Alex lets herself melt, just a little - Kryptonians are furnaces, full body hot water bottles, if Astra gave up on conquering the world she could set her own hours without even trying - then pulls herself together. "Where's the bathroom?"

Astra has her there in a blink. She sets Alex down slow, gentle as a kitten as she blinks away the afterblur, and leaves reluctantly. Her departure is helped along more than a little by Alex's insistence the second and third time she looks like she's going to remain in the room. She doesn't waste her breath telling Astra not to hover by the door while she goes about her business. With her super-senses, she could keep a watch on her from halfway to orbit. In comparison to that, mere physical proximity barely factors. Which is not quite as comforting as knowing the same for Kara. She grew up with Kara sticking her nose into things to the point that it's expected. It has its benefits. Her food's never cold, for one, even when she's ridiculously late. Diminished sometimes, sure, but never cold.

Puts her - and Kara, and the trouble Tatortot is doubtlessly causing in her absense, and that hideously greasy, heartdestroying meat roll from the one corner-store she's suddenly craving - from her mind, because Kryptonian bathroom systems are as foreign as the language. If she hadn't taught all of this to Kara the other way round, she'd be as lost as a Floridian in Washington. Finishes up - noticing cold a lot more now, creeping into her fingers and skin - and is enveloped by a cool damp cloud. If she wasn't still so bone deep tired, that'd have her jumping clear back into Astra's arms. Which is ... not a thought she's ever considered having. And she's going to keep on not having it. This is a temporary ceasefire while her biology does ... things, nothing more.

She still has skin when it dissipates. Alex considers that a win.

Astra seems disgruntled, and grabs her as soon as she steps through. Like Kara when her sunlight's blocked. Alex can't complain, and curls into the offered warmth. Begins to rumble into neck. It's nice. Like being lulled to sleep on a bus. Without potholes. Just soft, soothing vibration and a gentle sway.

... Not meant to be sleeping. Has to keep eyes open.

Open.

Just like ... there we go. She blinks contentedly at the shoulder in front of her, forgetting shape of her thoughts for a moment. She was ... she'd been ...? Something that she had to do. Movement draws her away from contemplation. A flash of blue and gold against the ice.

It's Kara. Alex would recognize her long after she'd forgotten her own name. Kara is here, and safe, and Alex knows that even if there isn't a way out, they'll make one. It's fine. She almost lets that thought lull her back into her doze. Doesn't, because if she isn't a pessimist by nature she sure as hell is one by training.

It's fine ... only instead of extracting Alex and leaving, or explaining why they're all camping out in the other end of the world, or even looking like she finds the idea of Astra's hands near Alex's neck alarming, she swoops down - seriously, whoever designed this place took one look at the word cavern and never looked back, thermodynamics be damned - and joins in on the vertical cuddle pile. Which is also nice, on the surface. Toasty warm on all sides.

But it's also worrying. Alex is resigned to the fact that Kara chooses to believe the best of her aunt - has made her own efforts to bring her round - and will co-operate peacefully with her if given the chance to, but how bad is the outside situation that Kara feels the need to cuddle her into it? Small consolation that problem is not immediate, but still. To the point that she wants to tear her hair out, but between the two of them her arms are pinned.

And how is Alex meant to do any protecting when she's stuck in the middle of a cuddle pile, anyway? Feels justified getting into at least a minute long sulk over that, but Kara's prolonged silence is setting off alarm bells.

And, now that her head's working properly again, why have they started floating down along the -

"I can walk."

Astra purrs.

... It's going to be so damn hard to forget that once she's back to being a stoic hostile General. And,speaking of, General Lane is going to be _such_ a hard-ass about every bloody second she spends interacting with her. With her luck he'll keel over from sheer sadistic joy. And then Alex will have to deal with Lucy 'smells amazing' Lane instead.

Groans, feeling the muscles in her back twitching in sympathy, and lets herself go limp. They'll let her down eventually.

* * *

Food in hand and with what she has come to term her Kryptonians hovering just beyond arms reach, Alex finally has time to properly think her situation through, or as much as she can while fending off two Kryptonians.

Alex is not stupid. She knows this. She got her job on the basis of being not-stupid. So when she sees Kara acting weird, she can look at Astra being weird - not the same kind of weird, but still weird - because of non-human alien biology, and extrapolate from there. There are differences - Kara doesn't spend nearly as much time wrapped around her, for one, she'd wrapped Alex in her cape (just as soft and fluffy as it was in the lab) and backed off to hover in the corner - but is that because of their ages? Or because of the different lengths and intensities of their exposure to red and yellow solar radiation? Or some deterministic agent that Astra had cause to interact with on Krypton and Kara missed when she was sent into exile as a preteen?

Neither are particularly talkative. Astra hasn't been since the first days in the cellblock, and Kara's taken after her, only with far more glowering at walls and doorways than Astra's intent, laser-focused attention.

There are just too many potential variables to work with. And even if she could isolate and then replicate the most likely of those causes, Alex's sample group is still too small.

Being stuck in Antarctica with a pair of altered Kryptonians means that, unless Clark shows up out of the blue - and he doesn't exactly have a history of that, not that Alex is bitter about it or anything - that she is well and truly stuck until they come back to normal. And that's a whole concern in and of itself.

Astra will either come to and be annoyed enough about the situation to immediately break whatever scraps of custody remaining in Alex's presence can bring, or she'll just be flat annoyed. Kara will probably be safe - she has been so far - but Alex is not looking forward to being stuck in a confined area with her on the rampage, in whatever form that might take. Not again.

Holds out hope that Kara will be the first, but there's nothing she can do to affect that.

What she can do, is start looking after herself. Not that they were doing a bad job of it until now - Alex is, after all, still alive. But she's not exactly comfortable.

The Fortress is made for Kryptonian tolerances. She hasn't, she reminds herself, died - not yet anyway - but she needs to rig up an non-Kryptonian heat source (even if they both seem perfectly willing, she's got no clue how long that'll last, or how much further Kara will diverge from the cell observations), find clothes - she'll wear a dress if that's what it takes - since what remains of her polo and pants are literally ripped to shreds, and see what there is for communications. Food isn't an issue, for once. It's distinctly alien, with an almost metallic aftertaste - Alex half expects it, after seeing the flavour combinations Kara's made over the years - but edible. It's a good thing, because the snack pocket only had one Kit-Kat left when she'd been bundled up at some point during the transfer to this crystal hall.

Her start has been limited to that one blanket-toga, and already she feels like crawling into a nice, cozy hole and hibernating while everything sorts itself out. Stomps down on that feeling hard.

On the one hand, it's not without its good side. Her cape is after all performing exactly as she projected it would. Alex is noticeably warmer already - not counting alien interventions - and far softer than either suit. On the other, she's wearing nothing but boots and underwear in front of her sister's aunt.

Alex needs a drink, and she needs it _yesterday_.


	3. Interlude 1

_Interlude One (Lucy)_

**Summary: **A lesser known effect of kryptonite: reversing the suppressing power of a yellow sun. Or; Humans are prone to running before they can walk, doubly so in the case of alien technology. This has its consequences.

**Pairing:** Alex/Astra, hints of Lucy/Vasquez

**TW:** some mild swearing, referenced death and dead bodies - basically the aftermath of chapter one

* * *

**Previously: **Alex was shot, kidnapped and woke up in an ice palace.

**Now:** Lucy is sick and tired of Danvers disappearing on her.

(I say previously, but this interlude actually starts midway through chapter one.)

* * *

_As ever, I strive to please, Bramley. Although arguments can be made for interludes not being actual chapters, I suppose. Next chapter will be back to the situation in the Fortress._

_Glad to see you enjoyed JB, I'll try to keep them coming._

* * *

Lucy is having the day from hell. Almost literally. Just _almost_, because even if they are surrounded by desert heat nothing is actually on fire. She'd known it was going to be bad when she learned, just after waking to a stack of paperwork on her table at least three inches taller then it had been before she went to be, that her day was going to consist of parading around the desert base, in full uniform. Again. She hasn't fully recovered from walking over hot sand in heels the first time. And there's still sand.

Her intuition doesn't disappoint. She stops in at the corner shop by her apartment for a quick pick-me-up coffee before she heads off to battle. In heels.

The DEO also means dealing with Danvers. And not _too nice for her own good, impossible to hate properly, puppy but for a whim of fate_ Danvers. Lucy's almost coming to enjoy meeting Kara, terribly hidden boyfriend infatuation or no. No, her problem is that suffering in the desert is synonym with suffering _Agent_ Danvers. She's far less friendly than her sister, but there's something to her that keeps from slipping in to outright unlikable. Which means Lucy's expectations creep up without her realising, and when Danvers does something she takes it far too personally.

It's not technically an issue that needs resolving. Only it is, because it has her constantly on edge trying to figure Danvers out. It's not like she could out and ask. It's hard enough getting answers that the Agents are legally required to give out of her.

It's probably the hair. That cut is _not_ straight. And is her colour natural? Lucy bounces back and forth on that one. She doesn't seem the type to dye (not like Comms Agent Vasquez, but Vasquez is _all_ natural. If Lucy'd met her - met them? - anonymously in a bar, there would've be no question about her taking a shot), but the cut isn't strictly by the book either, and Lucy had realised exactly how much she hadn't known when she'd walked into Game Night. _That_ had been a awkward balancing act of clearances and non-verbal ceasefire. Lucy had never been more sure she was going to wake up in a ditch. Purely for her proximity to Kara. Odd kind of sibling relationship. Danvers is nothing like Lois. Lois might write an exposé, but she'd never kill anyone over Lucy. And definitely not someone she was working with.

But, all questionings aside, Danvers has given no hints that she sees Lucy as anything but a workplace annoyance. Knows she is more than two dimensional workaholic (and Lucy is _not_ projecting there). How though, is left to her imagination. And what an overactive imagination she has proven to have.

And then, in the midst of a situation - or shituation, as one of the latest CatCo Op-Ed quizes had stuck into her head, which makes even speaking stressful with added surveillance - that has the law loving part of her curled up in corner and gently digging through the nearest concrete wall with her head, she loses her.

Lucy doesn't even know what laws would apply to an off books operation in a black ops site of organization that deals in things that legally don't exist (and seems to magic funding from thin air - Lucy's checked, and is impressed), but she remains convinced that her father is breaking them, or at the very least twisting them into pretzels. Like the ones Kara insisted she try.

She isn't overly surprised when she's given the slip, since budget discussion of those very same funds is possibly place least calculated to appeal to one Double Doctor Agent. They are tedium distilled. Only her professional admiration - where had they _found_ Pamella Donovan - and years of practice keep Lucy carefully upright and ready to chime in at the relevant points. If she had the excuse of explosions, or whatever kind of science Danvers employs to draw that double salary, she'd take it too.

Except the lab, once she finds it (navigation signs are conspicuously absent in the DEO's maze of hallways. A security protocol, she'd been told after one too many wrong turns had forced her to ask. She remains half convinced it was a special provision they made for the army presence in their high tech cave system) is empty. And locked. Spins on her heel and marches off to check the other labs. The DEO has far too many of them, in Lucy's humble opinion.

No joy.

The mess hall is not in any way shape or form anywhere near to what could be considered empty. It is, however, absent one pain in Lucy's ass. She spots several troublemakers, the type to volunteer themselves as a replacement for her afternoon, harassment regs (and her father) be damned.

She can't just keep standing the in the doorway until Danvers appears, so she has to make snap judgement. She can turn around and walk back out, in full view and wait for something to replace the gossip that that causes, or take her lunch early and be blindsided when Danvers emerges. Knows better than to think she won't make her life difficult, just on general principles.

Is tipping towards wondering the halls like the ghost of meals past when Agent Vasquez enters and offers to show her what passes for edible offerings in these parts. Lucy accepts, but sticks to a drink. Has to be ready to get up and run the moment Danvers shows herself. Probably, _probably_ won't need to, but Murphy's Law will slam into effect if she isn't prepared. Danvers has that kind of effect on probability.

Once they're seated - Vasquez has some sort of stew, with a side of rice, and watermelon slices to ward off heat - in empty corner, their conversation turns from the topic of food.

"Want to tell me what's landed in your bonnet? Ma'am?"

She groans. "Danvers." That should be all she has to say. And it is. Vasquez is quick on the uptake, just the type Lucy'd love to steal from the DEO, once their business here is done.

"Babysitting duty?" Lucy can't tell if that's a smirk, hidden behind the cup's brim. She feels like there's a smirk. "Should be simple enough, if you keep an eye out. She in her lab?"

"I checked there before coming her. It's locked tight." Maybe not for someone of Vasquez's skill. Cultivation, cultivation. Lucy'd have no trouble with an old fashioned lock, but handscanners have too many potential variables, and too few physical components to work with.

"Good, we won't have another cheese-puff incident." A _what._ Lucy isn't going to ask_. _"You sure she's still on base?" Actually, no, she is. But she's going to ask _Kara_. Less likely than any of the agents here to be intimidated into informing Danvers, and it's a nice conversation redirect if Kara rambles onto the subject of Jimmy for too long.

Lucy pauses before taking a sip of her drink - pomegranate juiceboxes, where do they get the budget? - and carefully sets the juicebox down. "You're telling me Danvers might have left in the middle of her shift?" She'd known budgets were tedious, but even she'd never considered going awol to avoid it.

Vasquez shrugs. "If Baby Danvers called in, sure. It's not like she doesn't put in the overtime to earn it."

Should be noting that for use as ammunition the second the DEO falls out of line. It's the entire purpose of having to follow Danvers around. But she isn't working right now. She's on her lunch break and she's being ... friendly, yes, not get too far ahead of themselves, and enjoying a rare and refreshing drink while scouting out safe topics of conversation.

"You know Kara?"

"...Of her. I don't get into the city much."

Awkwardness achieved. Time to deescalate. "Well, if you do I'm sure she'll be happy to give you food recs. She's already converted me with the sinful sticky buns at Noonans. And there's a little tapas place by the park I've been meaning to try, if you're ever in town -" What. What is her mouth doing. They are sitting in the middle of the crowded rec, she can't just ask her on a date.

Vasquez's eyebrow lifts minuscully, but no questions are asked. Thankfully. Is that a ghost of a smile? "I might take you up on that." Finishes up. Efficient eater. No, bad brain. Bad.

"If she's still on base, just wait for the sound of explosions."

See, validation like that is what makes Lucy refuse to play monopoly at game night, even in the face of Kara's pout.

"And while we're on the topic, the Director wants to speak with the General." Explosions indeed.

Lucy follows Vasquez out. Not hungry yet, and even if she was, she'll be tailing Danvers back soon enough anyway. Watching Vasquez at isn't awkward. Danvers will be a different story. She delights in it.

"Any ideas where I might find him?"

"Haven't seen him since this mornings briefing. He mentioned wanting to examine the containment facility, but that wouldn't have taken him this long." He could be anywhere, which is the point of today's inspection.

Vasquez sighs the sigh of a put-upon underling. "I'll send out feelers."

They part ways, Lucy breaking to the left while Vasquez head straight on to the central hub. On the off chance that Danvers has been considerate enough to leave a note, she's checking the office temporarily assigned to her.

* * *

What is known by the time nightshift starts coming on duty: there are bodies in the isolation cell that formerly contained General Astra, member and leader of the Fort Rozz alien group. None of them appear to be DEO personnel.

The DEO headcount, even including off duty personnel, is nearly complete. Danvers is still out of contact, but she's an outlier there. And not even Danvers can split herself into six pairs of limbs.

Which means that they're army. That they _were_ army.

They can't tell that from the remains. Even the dog-tags are missing, or melted beyond readability.

Lucy takes a deep breath, checks the hazmat suit's oxygen readout, and presses on. Does not have to be here. The DEO has any number of low ranking agents well used to getting the worse jobs. Lucy could stay safe in her office, and no one would say a word. But she has to be here.

Lucy's sent flunkies scurrying for a headcount at the army's temporary base, the records for scheduled deployments, and a general order for forensics and investigative teams to get on site soonest. Grabbed Corporal Whyte - sneaking past the doorway to avoid assignment like he's done a hundred times before - and ordered him to find her father and get him here. Very much wants to be removed from authority right now.

Even if he is going to be pissed as all hell about this. Keeping interorganisational relations cordial can wait.

... Lucy isn't angry. Not yet. She doesn't have room for anger.

They barely look like bodies. Mangled and charred. Uniforms crumble under even the gentlest gloved touch.

It was the fire alarm that had first brought attention to the cells. That had been at ... thirteen hundred hours, or thereabouts. Lucy had been close enough to CIC to be informed less than ten minutes later, and present in less than two. Her heels may never recover from the sprinting she's subjected them to, but future Lucy can be concerned about that. Current Lucy is busy with timelines and actors and finding who did this.

Supergirl's sudden change, and subsequent disappearance, is noted soon after Lucy'd taken charge. She's sure Vasquez can give her a proper timeline, but _soon_ is good enough for now. In pursuit, is the DEO consensus. Lucy doesn't have the energy to care. The forensics team has finally finished suiting up. Day from hell, and it's not even halfway over.

* * *

_A/N: I didn't go into this chapter expecting to ship/pre-ship Lucy and Vasquez - in fact I'd nearly forgotten them. but then again, they did disappear at around the same time ..._


End file.
